Justice Inc
by fudgemuffins
Summary: Gotham is a seedy shadowy creepy sort of place, so the injection of a little red super cheese genetics couldn't be better timed. But between the little blonde star-spangled kid, a Joker with an agenda and the resurgence of a few of the old super powered JLA crooners. Bruce is a little out of his neighbourhood. Luckily being ridiculously wealthy is still a kick arse super power.


Firstly, been a long time since I've published. Mostly because I'd like to start working on my original stuff more and fanfic is the best kind of practice out there so I really appreciate any criticism you throw to me. Also, I tried to look for a beta reader but it seems to be a daunting task so if anyone reading thinks they can polish it up I would greatly appreciate the input, and or, the offer to be my beta reader.

Thank you kindly ^_^

There were a number of strangers in the streets. From the centre of Gotham city outwards like a spreading wave of frightened cockroaches, men were filling up every corner of the city to its outer reaches. It began around seven that night just after the sun went down. One particular man heading the brigade was aiming for a quaint insurance office building on the North side of Gotham. He ran, like all of them but he seemed to have a bit of a skip in his step. He couldn't be separated from the rest of the crew having all smattered their faces with an array of colours and patterns precariously linking them to their boss but he was happy. He specifically asked for this building, wasn't questioned but accepted. So he ran with a kick and smirk and darted underneath a dull street light happily. Everything had been synchronised and planned. Unusually everything had been planned. Planned to a T. And that made this henchman particularly happy because that meant no one would disrupt his duty.

He turned a corner. It wasn't far ahead. It was quiet for a weekend night in Gotham City. He heard on the news earlier that most of the Gotham city police department had been attending the annual ball to raise funds. 'They weren't particularly alarmed' he'd seen Chief Gordon say on the news, crime had been down the last couple of months and he blamed Batman for that phenomenon. Personally this henchman put blame on the Joker, the clown was getting funny in his old age.

The hired muscle held a package close to his chest, it was important. It was small and squarish with a soft velveteen layer that disguised the message inside. The next foot he put down to the ground hit a puddle. His boot sunk a little into one of Gotham's famous gutters but it was only a slight misfortune. He'd be able to ignore the smell of oil, fungus and faeces if he carried through with this plan. One short bricked house block away from the office building he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. The others no doubt, had done the same at some point. It was interesting how he was chosen for the job in the first place. A number of men within the group were mad, sure but there were a number who weren't and they were separated into two groups. The less mindful ones were left behind while the actual hired muscle was taken aside to discuss a very grand plan. They were to go to designated places in the city to perform a task, they likely wouldn't survive this task and there would be very interesting consequences for certain victims. He, of course, was the only one who had taken the great clown aside and asked him if it were at all possible they could organise an alternative plan for him. He had received a smile that night, a unique kind of smile for the clown. One that hooked and met with the visible lines of his eyes and cracked the dried paint that was smeared over the spread lips of the Joker. He would remember it. The only kind of redemption he got from anyone in the city was from an absurd comedian.

The building he had to infiltrate had a slight Victorian feel but as with most buildings of the area had a heavy art deco influence because most of the buildings in the Northern part of Gotham were built in the 20's. It was a tan coloured brick building mostly hidden by the ever present fog that shouted at everyone 'This city is a shit heap' but was surprisingly clean. He supposed they could afford it given the amount of insurance everyone had to pay if they expected to keep anything. He eyed the top floor of the three story complex, inside one of those rooms was his ex-fiancée. The reason he requested this building. They had been engaged a long while ago and they had been very happy. But unfortunately she took it upon herself to fuck his cousin and conceive a bastard that she claimed was his own until two years in when she decided that she couldn't take anymore and disappeared. He only found out it wasn't his son during a very painful few minutes with a private detective and a very explanatory photograph. She'd been seeing his cousin since the engagement. Of course there was some resentment there, she also decided that he wasn't in need of a house or a car so took those off of him. Lovely woman that she was. He spent a good five years wishing she died of gonorrhoea or vaginally impaled on a pike, though it wasn't likely it would happen this century, soon after he was employed under the Joker because he was very good at hurting people.

As he rode up the elevator to its meagre top floor he gently ran his thumb across the package again. He looked up with the elevator made a ding and let him out. He'd been taught at some point that if you act like you're supposed to be in a place you're not meant to be, people will think you're meant to be there. So with every bit of confidence he cared to reveal, he walked straight down a corridor, made a left a few more steps then another left and opened a door which he remembered coming to once before. Before he had the day off and came and brought her lunch, she wasn't there so he left it on her desk and left. Now he opened the door and she looked up with her big brown eyes.

He smiled. So would she eventually.

When it came to ten that night and multiple gunshots went off around the city of Gotham, his did not. He remembered the Joker's smile as he left the quaint little insurance building and ran back to headquarters.

Lucius rubbed at the scruff under his chin and glanced at the clock resting above the door in his office. It was nigh on five and he had yet to find anyone suitable enough.

The idea had been presented to him by one of the PR officers to enhance Bruce Wayne's public profile. After a late night dalliance at one of the most luxurious hotels in the city the press had not been too kind to Wayne Enterprise's primary shareholder. So in essence to kill one bad press bird and another horrendously organised billionaire bird with one stone, he agreed to interview applications for Bruce Wayne's personal assistant. Of course this was purely work experience chosen for the lucky student and minimal cost to the company which was pleasing to both the board and the public. A win/win one could almost hesitate to say. No more than two days had passed since he'd sent the request out to the top schools in Gotham for its most deserving students, did he receive a plethora of CV's of all shapes and sizes. He was quick to dismiss the obvious aim at Bruce's, albeit astute, attraction to lovely ladies and focus on the academic qualities of the applicants. Unfortunately to quell the furies of the aristocrats that be there were some he was forced to at least give a chance. Though he hardly felt that any jockular nitwit that called him 'brah' deserved the acknowledgement.

He had had many from the more expensive schools in Gotham come in to flash their wares but Lucius had the feeling that they weren't really aware of the type of CEO that ran Wayne Enterprises. He may look like a boardroom puppet to the press but he certainly wasn't one of Bruce's most trusted friends for his gullibility. To count he had probably met at least a dozen girls who could've ran for senate as well as made the cover of a glossy magazine in scraps of clothing. But they weren't the right fit. He'd met a few academically gifted children both male and female but they also had something missing. It had the old man pause momentarily thinking that perhaps he was too picky or precise. That no one would live up to his unreachable expectations. It was nearly one day down. Another to go after. He flipped through the folders containing the coming applicants and buzzed his secretary to let the next one in. He sighed. No matter what kind of person sat before him he knew that there were very few people that could pull Bruce Wayne together into a respectable businessman. Let alone anyone who wouldn't be swayed by his gift with words into becoming the exact opposite of what he needed them to be.

A knock stopped his thoughts. He looked up as a figure gingerly stepped through the doors. The poor thing looked like she ought to be living at the end of a rainbow in a children's television show. All mismatched colours and wads of cloth hanging off of her at odd angles, a scarf or two he expected. She almost tripped over her own feet in an effort to quickly shuffle over to his desk. He chuckled and immediately regret it. She gave him the kind of glare that reminded him of his mother when she caught him throwing stones at the neighbour's house. Which he found amusing. How old was she supposed to be? She plopped down into the offered chair, quietly rearranging the mountains of clothing she wore (yes, it was cold but not that cold) and settled her eyes on him. He felt a small smile warm his face as he looked through the papers in front of him.

He stuck out his hand to shake hers and greeted her.

"My name is Lucius Fox and even though I'm sure you're aware of that, I am very pleased to meet you Miss….?"

"Olivia Batson."

His eyebrow quirked as he went over the name in his head. _Now where have I heard that before?_

At about 10 a.m. a billionaire pulled himself out of bed with a groan, pausing midrise to sigh and rub his chest, head and crotch closely following. He stood up from the comfort of the sheets to walk towards the morning sun and stretch his aching muscles. He had been out the night before on a date. Somehow Bruce had managed to maintain a steady relationship with a reporter named Victoria for the last month. He had seen her at events on and off. She was attractive of course, a gorgeous femme fatal type with red hair and a mind to match his own but annoyingly since they first met she seemed to keep up with this idea that he was Batman. True though it may be, it made staying with her a little difficult and the crush she had on his alter-ego was affecting his ego and pumping up the other one. It made for a difficult case of dissociative narcissistic disorder with insecure identity tendencies. But as it stood, the date was good and crime was down, it unsettled him. Dropping to start his morning exercise routine was how Alfred found him.

Bruce glanced up at the ageing butler watching him curiously holding up what he assumed was that morning's newspaper. He slowed his actions and stood up wiping his forehead on a clean t-shirt carefully placed away by Alfred the night before. There was a sigh, Bruce shot an apologetic look and slipped the shirt over his head before grabbing the newspaper.

'48 Attacked 47 Suicide'

It was an attention grabbing headline. His eyes skipped over the article mentioning an organised attack across the whole of Gotham, victim's faces carved, attacker's promptly shot themselves...except for one. From the nature of the injuries described there was no doubt who had put their mark on the attack and it disturbed him to know that this happened under his watch, while he was on a date. If he wasn't already sceptical about dating in the first place…frustrated, he jogged down stairs to the kitchen, his loyal father figure keeping close behind.

Situating himself on a stool in the kitchen he had time to think. The clown was very connected for someone without a record of any kind. Not long ago a doctor in Arkham helped him escape, a pretty blonde thing too but obviously as mad as a hatter, two weeks after the escape a picture showed up of her in a red and black get up skipping behind the clown. The police had been preoccupied with hunting the sociopath rather than catching the bat so that left more opportunities to scope out the slums of the city and keep everything under control. This had been the Joker's first big stunt since his escape. Be the change you want to see in the world seemed like a warped way to illustrate what had been done to the victim's, all with a brand new Glasgow smile lined up in a single hospital wing reminding each other what they'd have to live with from now on.

Surely the news would have spread across every inch of Gotham by now and the Joker didn't satisfy himself with so many victims, he was a perpetual over achiever always wanting to outdo what he'd done before. This was a problem. He pushed the paper away and settled his chin on the knuckles of his right hand. The always on guard Dark Knight sighed and looked up at Alfred warily. The old Englishman gave his master a brilliant grin.

"Good Morning Sir." He spoke dryly.

Exuding with sarcasm Bruce replied "Isn't it?"

"What are you going to do?" Alfred inquired.

Mulling it over in his mind he was lost for ideas, just research maybe which meant a hard day's work on the computer. He could give Vicki a call, see if she had any inside info on the whole event but didn't particularly want to spark another series of irritating questioning. Regrettably his day was already full, Lucius had made the genius move of allowing a high school student to tail him for the school holidays leading to a glorious few months in the company of: best case scenario, a really good looking girl who didn't mind older men or worst case scenario: an aggravating stickler for routine and nosiness…with bowel problems. Although the CEO had placated him by giving him a few details of the girl that would be around him the next few months, she was bright, thoughtful, very astute, positive and quite the character, he was wary. He didn't like people so close to him. Everything it seemed was piling on him at once.

He moved the newspaper further aside out of any peripheral eyesight and pulled the fresh cup of coffee Alfred had lovingly prepared for him. Savouring the first sip he went to pull a bottle of single malt from the other side of the bench, a peaty Islay 21 year old that'd go nicely with a double shot cappuccino. His fingertips were second base on the bottle when Alfred smacked his hand away with the rolled up paper then slapping it obnoxiously in front of him again.

"You can't avoid everything, Master Wayne." He spoke firmly.

Bruce sighed and nodded. Rubbed at his eyes and glanced at his watch.

"Alright, 7.38. At the office by 9, go meet this girl, get her onto some mundane stuff to get Lucius off my back. Innocent car accident, home by 12 and spend the recovery time looking into all of this...shit." He knelt on his palm doe eyes staring at Alfred. Alfred sighed and stared at the man he raised since birth.

"I'll make you an omelette sir."


End file.
